


Sinful Sonatas

by chlochloebear



Category: Breddy, TSV - Fandom, TwoSet, Video Blogging RPF, twoset violin
Genre: Angry Kissing, Angry Sex, Angst, Domestic, Fluff, Humor, Implied Sexual Content, M/M, Pining, Romance, TSV, Tchaikovsky, TwoSet Violin - Freeform, breddy - Freeform, twoset - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-30
Updated: 2020-04-19
Packaged: 2021-02-27 04:47:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 13,073
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22481272
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chlochloebear/pseuds/chlochloebear
Summary: A compilation of Breddy one-shots
Relationships: Eddy Chen & Brett Yang, Eddy Chen/Brett Yang
Comments: 41
Kudos: 131





	1. 3 Movements

  
  
  
The first time he ever said I love you he was in the bathroom of their university dormitory.

Eddy was sprawled on the tiled floor, forcing himself to purge every last drop of alcohol in his system. He clung to the toilet as if it was a bénitier, and he, the sinner, was cleansing himself for consuming Lucifer's elixir the night before. He was not able to resist the temptation of euphoric bliss, the temporary high, of being unhinged. And so he paid his penance with dry heaves, ringing ears, and shaking limbs.

He was crying when his saviour came with an orange juice on one hand, and an Advil on the other. "You have to hydrate" Brett's mellow voice echoed in the room, causing Eddy to cease whimpering. He popped the pill and drank the entire glass desperately, as if it was his last shot at salvation.

"Do you want to transfer to the bed?" Brett whispered in Eddy's ear, concern evident in his tone. Eddy gave a weak shake of his head before once again praying to the porcelain god. Brett rubbed Eddy's back as the latter continued filling their bathroom with a cacophony of cries and dry heaving.

After a few more minutes of this, Eddy was absolutely enervated. He was numb. He was delirious. He was cold. He could barely open his eyes because of exhaustion. He was sure that there was nothing else left to vomit and so it was safe for him to transfer to the bedroom and sleep his headache away. Eddy mustered up the strength he had left to ask his best mate to help him stand. Brett wrapped his arm around Eddy's waist, lifting him up and supporting him as they made their way out of the bathroom.

"Thank you" Eddy whispered as his head hit the pillow. He was being tucked into bed when he whispered "I love you."  
  
  
  


* * *

  
  


The second time he said I love you he was in a hotel room in Canada.

It was 2 am and he was restless. He couldn't fathom the jolt of electricity that he felt during that night's performance, particularly when he and Brett played Sarsate's Navarra and their eyes locked for a brief second. It wasn't as if that was the first time it ever happened, in fact, it was an integral part of playing the piece. They constantly had to give each other cues in order to keep perfectly in sync.

That was the thing with playing as a duet–one had to be the Sun while the other had to be the planet that orbited around it. And since Eddy played first violin, he had to make sure that Brett would be kept in his orbit; that he would not become a wandering planet in a galaxy of harmonics.

But tonight was different. Tonight, there was a shift of force, of power. Eddy felt a weird sensation spread through his body when their eyes met. It was as if gravity left the centre of the Earth and found its new home in Brett's eyes. He felt a tug in his chest, a tug on the heartstrings he didn't even know he had, violently pulling him towards the Sun. His Sun.

Eddy rolled to his side to face the bed parallel to his. He looked at Brett, all peaceful in his sleep, and whispered "I think I'm in love with you." And at that point he knew he had to defy the laws of physics somehow if he didn't want to crash and burn.  
  
  
  


* * *

  
  


The third time he said I love you, it was already too late.

He leaned his whole weight on an ionic order column as he lit a cigarette. It wasn't his first stick for that day, and it most certainly wasn't his last.

He picked up the nasty habit right after the metanoia he had in Canada. He didn't even enjoy it, but it was an effective crutch. He would light a stick every time he felt like his heart would bounce right out of his chest and run to Brett, which happened quite often. He would then light another to calm his nerves. The third one was his death wish, treating it like a candle whose smoke would bring up his prayers to the gods. And that prayer held morbid thoughts and songs of despair of a lover whose affection was unrequited, of a warrior who could no longer fight.

Eddy was Prometheus, and his devotion to Brett was Zeus' eagle that brought him immense suffering every single day. He was Icarus, and he flew too close to the Sun. He fell too fast, too hard, finding himself stuck in an elaborate labyrinth that he could only escape if he would write his own elegy–a confession to the object of his affections.

But Eddy was a proud man, proud but scared. He was afraid of the possible rejection, of the disdain, of the anger, the disgust, the ending of a friendship forged in stone, the ripping of his heart. He was afraid that by wanting more, he would be given less. And that was not something he was willing to bargain. Brett wasn't someone he was willing to lose.

And so Eddy locked his heart away and buried it deep. He silenced his yearning with complicated musical pieces that he practiced from dusk to dawn. He averted his eyes when Brett's stare lingered a little bit longer, shrugged off the goosebumps that formed on his skin when Brett would squeeze him a little bit tighter, and ignored the warmth that pooled in his chest when Brett would call his name a little bit sweeter. He thought he could keep this up forever, but his heart was more powerful than what he gave it credit for.

An hour ago Eddy's heart screamed loud enough for Brett to hear and heed its calls. It happened just after the other groomsmen were whisked out of the room by the wedding coordinator. Brett and Eddy were left in a small chamber that had such bad acoustics a pin drop would sound like a nail being hammered to a wall. And that was exactly why the events that unfolded next seemed more horrendous than how it actually was in reality.

"I love you" Eddy's words echoed inside the room, each reverberation sounding uglier than the last one. As soon as he heard it, he wished he could take it back. There was no point in telling Brett. It was too late.

Brett looked at him with tired, disappointed eyes. "Why now, Eddy? You had three years" he said. Eddy's brows furrowed in confusion. "Don't act like you didn't know I felt the same way" Brett said accusingly.

Eddy wanted to whisper "I didn't," but this time he chose to hold his tongue. The confession was pointless. Brett already said it was too late, he knew it was too late, and so he swallowed back his pride and buried his heart once more.

"I loved you" Brett said as he took Eddy's face in his hands. "But I have Amelia now." Eddy nodded in understanding before pulling Brett towards him for a tight embrace.

"I'd give the world for your happiness, Brett" he whispered in his friend's ear.

"And I'd give the world for yours" Brett answered.


	2. Honeybee

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh my god this is the first time I've ever written fluff. I hope you like it. Constructive criticism is very much appreciated!

It was the first day of summer. The sky was once again washed in matte periwinkle and warm golden highlights. Skins glistened with sweat as hot, humid air kissed every naked inch unapologetically showcased by locals and tourists alike. The atmosphere was charged with the energy of summer bliss and excitement.

Sunny little Brisbane was nothing short of perfect.

The windows of Eddy's car were rolled down, allowing the summer breeze to blow through his light brown hair. The glint of excitement in his eyes gave his heart away even though he tried his best not to be too transparent about what he was feeling today. For one, he didn't want to add fuel to the fire that was started by Jordon's inability to contain personal observations and presumptions to himself. As soon as his plane landed in his hometown three days ago, the questions never stopped flowing. Both his (their) friends and family bombarded Eddy with inquiries about the development of their so-called partnership into something more. And even though Eddy adamantly told every single one of them that the rumours held no truth, people kept talking anyway. It didn't help that Ray decided to join the bandwagon, going to the extent of publicly declaring himself as the captain of the so-called 'Breddy' ship. That day, that post, it was all etched in Eddy's memory like a love confession engraved on pavement. It wasn't his fault, of course. But he couldn't exactly wash his hands and pretend like he was a passive actor in all of this.

He taunted fans, he knew that. He gave them reasons to read into his and Brett's actions, to paint colour into what would otherwise have been harmless, purely platonic displays of affection. The lingering stares, the leaning into the shoulder, the hand-holding—they were all for show. Well, of course not all of it. They had agreed to make it more visible when the camera was rolling because it helped them get more views. It got people buzzing. However, it wasn't as if they didn't do those things prior to TwoSet being a thing. Brett and he have always been the type to get 'a little bit handsy with each other,' as Jordon put it. But they didn't see anything wrong with that. Girls did it all the time, so why couldn't guys do it too?

They were just friends.

Brett and Eddy were just the best of friends.

Right?

Just really good friends who have lived with each other for the past five years, have been doing things together since meeting in maths tutorials, and have practically planned their lives together; always involving the other, never acknowledging the possibility of them separating ways.

They were not just the best of mates, they were partners too.

That's why the second and more important reason Eddy has to tuck his heart back inside his chest instead of carelessly wearing it on his sleeve was Brett. That eyeglass wearing, hair flicking, purebred classical musician who was just too adorable for his own good needed to be protected. It wasn't that Eddy was infantilising his friend or anything. Brett was, after all, much older than him and has more life experience on the social side of things. He was a man in his own right; decisive and principled, strong-willed and quick-witted. But Brett has some degree of naiveté to him that only Eddy knew. Brett was like a thorny English rose—too beautiful, a little dangerous, but was all the same delicate. He wasn't one to adapt quickly to change; he took comfort in monotony and structure with small doses of spontaneity injected here and there. Eddy was the one who eased him into new things. Eddy was the one who always tested the waters first, the one who held his hand out to Brett and told him it was safe to take a dip.

Brett relied on Eddy not to get left behind in yesterday's shadow.

And Eddy knew this. He knew because he needed Brett too.

Eddy always had his mind up in the clouds. He was always moving, never stopping for anyone or anything. He was an introvert, that much was true, but that did not prevent him from seeking a life of adventure. He was a dreamer, a wanderer, a true escapist. Every day Eddy would hustle to keep up with his unceasing thoughts and tried to take hold of ideas floating above his head. One minute he's passionately tending to a project, the next he's silently contemplating what his existence meant to the world. Eddy was a lot to handle, but Brett did not mind. Brett was the one who grounded him, the one who would always remind him to take a breath and hold it for a while. Whenever Eddy would find himself floating into a realm of unanswerable questions and countless possibilities, Brett would tether him back to reality and remind him to concentrate on the now.

The chemistry they had was unique. It was as if the gods themselves moulded the two to fit together perfectly. And that bond, that almost sharing one soul type of bond, was what started the rumour mill.

Eddy wasn't particularly affected by the whispers about him and Brett. He has been very vocal about the fact that he was a liberal and a progressive. Eddy believed that there were certain forces in this world that one could not simply hinder: first was the weather, second was gravity, third was a social revolution, and fourth was love. He didn't care if his happily ever after was with a boy or a girl, or maybe someone who didn't fit into the binary that society was so obsessed with.

Love was love, after all. 

But love wasn't just about gender. No, love was a difficult concept to unpack. Love meant a lot of things, like endings and beginnings and the messy moments in between. Love meant confessions and rejections, and a whole lot of complications.

And complications weren't Eddy's thing.

At least for now. At least with Brett.

Because Brett was just his friend, right _?_ Nothing more, nothing less. Pure and simple and platonic. Fraternal, even. He loved Brett as a brother, an _older_ brother that is. There wasn't anything romantic going on between them. There was no spark. Na-ah. None at all.

Or maybe there was, but did it matter? For Eddy, it didn't (shouldn't) because he was content with where he was in his life currently. He was happy, he was content, and he was about to hit a car.

"Fuck!" Eddy cursed as he rapidly slammed on the breaks of his car. His vehicle came to a screeching halt at the intersection of Hedley Avenue and Nudgee Road, missing the SUV in front of him by just a few inches. Eddy was so taken aback by the incident that he had to park his car at a curb to catch his breath for a second.

"That was close...too close" he mumbled to himself as he shook off his anxiety. Eddy shut his eyes and massaged the temples of his head with his slender fingers. After about thirty seconds of trying to compose himself, he grabbed his phone from his pocket to check on the time. It was a quarter past eleven in the morning which meant that he had fifteen minutes before Brett's plane would land. He had to rush if he didn't want to be late. After all, he promised his best friend that this time around, he'd be the early bird.

Eddy connected his phone to the speakers of his car and blasted Bach before resuming driving. He really had to stop this newfound habit of getting lost in his thoughts while driving if he wanted to live a little bit longer.

After a few minutes, Eddy finally arrived at the airport. He was just about to park on an empty spot when his phone rang. He looked at the screen and saw his best friend's name.

"Brett! Did you just land?" Eddy asked.

"Nope, we arrived early which means you're late" Brett chuckled on the other line. "Where are you?"

"Hey, that's unfair. I made sure I had time to spare. It's not my fault" Eddy argued. "I was just about to park when you called. Which aisle are you in? I'll just go pick you up" he added.

"Aisle 6. Come here quick. I miss you" Brett said before hanging up. Eddy bit his lip to stop himself from smiling. As he drove towards Brett's location, he can't help wondering when 'I miss yous' started hitting differently.

Was it during the time when Toni broke his heart and he spent hours on the phone with Brett, who was in Sydney for work but dropped everything just to help him remember how to breathe? Was it during the time when he got the news that he was the new concertmaster for the Queensland Orchestra, and while everyone else in his party was drinking the night away, he and Brett were on the phone, tracing the stars in the night sky that they shared? Or was it just three days ago, when Eddy decided to go home ahead of Brett so that he could spend time with his sister before she left for Europe, and he and Brett fell asleep on the phone as they talked about the tragedy of Pluto being reclassified as a planetoid?

Eddy was taken out of his reverie when Brett's face came into view. He parked the car, put it on hazard, unlocked the door, and went out to help Brett with his luggage. The older violinist didn't have a lot of things with him, just two big luggage, his violin case, and a medium-sized penguin stuffed toy that wore a tiny knitted hat on its head. Eddy noted how Brett clung onto the said toy, even when he got into the former's car.

"How was your flight?" Eddy asked as he turned off the hazard lights and strapped-on his seatbelt. He checked the rearview mirror and then sped away.

"Bro" Brett replied with a huge frown on his face. "It was a freaking nightmare! There were two babies on board, and they kept crying the whole flight. They were crying so loud my noise-cancelling headphones couldn't block the sounds"

Eddy gave a throaty chuckle before replying "Aww, poor baby" he said as he ruffled Brett's hair with his hand. "Eew! Your hair is greasy! What the heck, Brett!" Eddy exclaimed as he wiped his hand on his friend's hoody.

Instead of swatting away Eddy's hand, the bespectacled boy grabbed it and interlocked their fingers. Eddy was startled, no, Eddy was gobsmacked. Yes they were touchy, but not _this_ touchy. At least not when they weren't filming. This was new and definitely daring.

This was unfamiliar, and confusing, and a whole lot alarming. But this was Brett, and Eddy knew that nothing disastrous ever came out of touching Brett. Or to be more concise, Brett touching him.

Right?

But sans the threat of external catastrophe, Eddy was still disturbed by the intimacy that Brett initiated. Internally, he was screaming, _screeching_ to be more blunt. There wasn't an iota of serenity found in the thoughts running through Eddy's mind as of the moment. There were just alarms ringing, warning bells tolling, burning wood crackling. On the outside he was calm and collected, unmoving like an Oak in the middle of a storm. But on the inside, he was but a tiny leaf relying on its frail petiole as it desperately clung onto a branch that was already in the brink of falling.

Eddy was troubled.

Eddy was unsure.

Eddy was scared but he didn't know why.

Brett was here and everything was perfect. It was summer. The sun was shining. The sun was radiant. The sun was sitting on the passenger's seat of his car, cradling his hand. The sun was warm and soft and beautiful, too fucking beautiful. And he was making Eddy nervous.

"A-" Eddy cleared his throat. "Are you okay? Is something bothering you, bro?"

"Hmm?" Brett looked at him with innocent, unbothered eyes. "What do you mean?"

Eddy smirked, tilted his head to the side, lifted their intertwined hands, and gave Brett a questioning look.

"What's th-"

"Eddy did you get a haircut?" Brett interrupted his best mate. He let go of Eddy's hand to run his fingers through the latter's hair.

And just like that, pink hydrangeas bloomed in Eddy's cheeks; in his chest, at the pit of his stomach, at the tips of his fingers. It was as if he suddenly caught Hanahaki, and he was given no time to cope because it engulfed his entirety in a split second.

Eddy tried his hardest not to recoil from Brett's touch. It wasn't that he didn't enjoy it, no, quite the contrary. But Brett touching him like this was all too much for someone who was trying to drive through the streets of Brisbane without spontaneously combusting.

"Yeah, I did. Thanks for noticing" he said as he gently patted away Brett's hand. Eddy fumbled with his hair for a second, before returning his hand on the steering wheel. "You like it?" He asked. Brett said nothing, but he gave Eddy a toothy grin as he nodded his head.

Brett did not move to take Eddy's hand back, nor did he try to touch Eddy once again. They shared a moment of comfortable silence, that is until Brett popped his mouth.

"What was that!?" Eddy asked in an amused tone, giving his friend a look of bewilderment.

"Nothing. I was just checking how dry my lips are. Man, this weather is giving me chapped lips" Brett answered before doing more mouth popping. Eddy gave a melodious laugh, whispering "You're so silly" between chuckles. This prompted Brett to act out even more. He didn't just continue popping his mouth, he popped it in tune to Blue Danube.

Brett and Eddy's laughter filled the whole car. They laughed and laughed until their faces were crimson, and sweat started forming on their foreheads.

"Eddyyyy" Brett whined. "My lips are starting to hurt though"

"What do you want me to do?" Eddy replied as he tried catching his breath. "I don't think I have chapstick with me. Try wetting them with your saliva" he instructed.

"Or you know, you can just kiss me" Brett said nonchalantly. Eddy slammed on the breaks of his car for the second time that day. He heard honking of horns and numerous expletives directed at him, but all of them sounded muffled.

Eddy looked at Brett with furrowed eyebrows. His heart was beating fast and loud, making his ears ring.

"What did you just say?" Eddy asked.

"I said you can just kiss me" Brett responded casually.

_How is he so calm when my heart's about to leap out of my chest?_ Eddy wondered. _How is-_

"Kidding!" Brett exclaimed before flashing Eddy a wide grin. "Dude, chill. You should've seen the look on your face" he teased as he imitated Eddy.

Eddy felt a chill run down his spine. The song of spring that his heart was humming suddenly turned cold and sour. The flowers on his cheeks withered just as fast as they bloomed. There was a sharp, paralysing pain that crawled from Eddy's chest through his whole body.

He forced a chuckle out before speaking. "This is why there are rumours about us dating, you know?" He said, his face was contorted to conceal ambivalence. Eddy kept his eyes on the road, his hands gripped the steering wheel with all his strength. If he couldn't take hold of his emotions properly, might as well control the crap out of the car so that they could finally be home.

"I don't mind. Falling in love with you doesn't terrify me at all"

And with that, Eddy once again found himself in a conundrum.

* * *

"Have you told him?" Jordon asked before sipping his iced tea.

"Told him what?" Eddy asked, puzzled.

Jordon rolled his eyes as he placed his glass back on the table. "That you're hopelessly in love with him, Eddy. Don't play coy. We all know you are" Jordon uttered. "This–whatever you call this shit between the two of you– is frankly painful to watch. You're not kids anymore. Pining is no longer on trend. It's disgusting"

Eddy was just about to give a retort when the screen door to their garden opened. "Where's Bretty, my boy?" Belle asked as she gave Jordon a hug and Eddy a kiss on the cheek.

"Shower" Eddy replied. He placed a glass with ice in front of his sister and poured her a drink.

"He hasn't told him yet" Jordon told Belle, provoking a violent response from her.

"Eddy what the fuck!?" Belle cursed before she took a sip from her glass "this is fantastic, by the way" she leaned into Jordon to thank him before she brought her attention back to her brother.

"Just tell him already. What is stopping you?" She inquired.

"I really don't know where you guys got the idea that I have feelings for Brett. We're just friends. The best of friends" Eddy explained in frustration. "We are friends. Just that" he added for good measure.

"Who are you trying to convince here? Us or yourself?" Belle quipped, earning a chuckle from Jordon.

"I'm not trying to convince you. I'm telling you the truth. Besides, I'm pretty sure Brett thinks the same way" Eddy's voice trailed off, and this didn't go unnoticed by his sister and his friend.

"Oooh shit!" Jordon shouted before he and Belle started laughing. "You're afraid you'd get rejected!!! Oh my God!"

"What!? No. What even—" Eddy retorted, but he knew that whatever effort he would try to exert to shut them up would be futile at this point. Belle and Jordon's histrionic laughter was giving Eddy a headache.

Belle and Jordon didn't understand the gravity of the situation. They were oblivious to the unequal tip of the scales, of the implausibility of requital. They didn't have any idea how a confession (if there was even something to confess, to begin with) would lead to the demise of Eddy's world. Because Brett wasn't the type to take change smoothly. Brett wasn't the type to plunge in head first. He wasn't the type to fall for Eddy because...well, because Eddy was just Eddy and Brett was Brett.

Brett was a prism. He emitted magenta and turquoise, a happy canary yellow and a soothing cornflower blue. He was a field of cosmos, a Monet painting; he was Tchaikovsky's violin concerto. Brett was majestic, a piece of divinity in a world of mortals.

Brett was unreachable.

So fucking unreachable.

Even to Eddy who has been just an arms-length away throughout the years. Even to Eddy who knew Brett's every foible and power.

Because Eddy was just simple, normal, Eddy. He was just an accessory—a good addition but just an addition nonetheless. He was a second violin, a plebeian. And everyone knew the divine never got involved with humans.

"Belle!" Brett's voice pulled Eddy from the abyss of his mind. He looked at the subject of his musings and instantly noticed that he was shirtless.

"Brett put on some goddamn clothes!" Eddy demanded, earning a knowing laugh from Belle and Jordon.

"Hello there, Brettyboy! I missed you" Belle said as she gave Brett a hug. "How have you been? How was Canada?"

"Cold beyond words. Snow's only fun for the first two days, after that, it's just hell" Brett said as he dried his hair with the towel draped around his neck.

"Can you pass me that?" Brett whispered to Eddy, gesturing to the glass of iced tea sitting on the table.

"I'll just get you a glass" Eddy remarked, but before he could stand, Brett placed a hand on his shoulder and forced him to stay in his place.

"It's fine. We can share your glass" Brett said as he tapped Eddy's shoulder. He raised his eyebrows and used his lips to point at Eddy's glass. The younger violinist chuckled and shook his head before passing the iced tea to the older.

Eddy suddenly felt a sharp pain on his shin. Jordon was kicking him under the table and was giving him pointed looks. Eddy gave him a deathly stare as a response, imploring him to quit his schemes.

"Why don't you take a seat?" Belle asked Brett as she nodded her head towards the empty chair beside Eddy.

"Nah," Brett shook his head. He then placed his hand on top of Eddy's head and said "this is my favourite spot, right here."

Jordon choked on his drink. Belle's mouth hung open. Eddy's insides were on fire, and he didn't know if he was about to make a spectacle of himself by projectile vomiting or wetting his pants.

"Bitch!" Jordon cursed. He was coughing so hard his face was turning red "help" he whispered as he grabbed Belle's arm. Belle, recovering from her shock, jumped into action and rubbed Jordon's back.

"You should drink some water" Brett suggested, before he sprinted back inside to get a pitcher.

"Fucking idiot that Brett fucking Yang" Jordon muttered as his coughing calmed down. "Fucking, fuck!"

"Here you go" Brett came back, pitcher in hand. He poured a glass for Jordon and urged him to drink.

"Are you feeling better?" Belle asked Jordon while she continued rubbing soothing circles on his back.

"Yeah, yeah. I am, I think" Jordon answered after gulping down the contents of his glass. "Brett, you are one heck of a man" he quipped.

"What? What did I do?" Brett asked, raising his arms.

"Put on a goddamn shirt" Eddy told him, annoyance evident in his tone. "And what is up with that penguin? Is that your security blanket now?"

"Oh this?" Brett smiled, patted the head of the stuffed toy, then extended his hand towards Eddy. "This is for you. It was the only thing I had when you left Canada. It got me through missing you"

"Fuck! That's it! I'm done. I'm so done. I'm leaving!" Jordon said angrily as he stomped away from the group. "Belle let's go!"

"Yeah, coming!" Belle shouted back before she took one last sip of her drink. After which, she gave Eddy a pointed look. "See you later, you two!" She kissed her brother and Brett on the cheek before leaving.

"What's up with Jordon?" Brett asked as he took the seat next to Eddy.

He's close. Close enough for Eddy to become conscious about how heavy he was breathing. But apparently, their proximity wasn't enough for Brett because he dragged his seat closer to Eddy's, and draped his arm around the latter's chair.

Close, too close.

Eddy could feel the hairs on his nape stand. His entire being was awake, every cell in his body seemingly reaching out toward the pale naked man to his left.

_Touch him, Eddy. Touch him._

Eddy's soul pleaded. He wanted to, he was about to. But then he remembered that he was a full grown man who had a full-functioning brain, damn it. A well-witted brain that was capable of conjuring rational decisions when Eddy was otherwise drowning in a sea of emotions.

"I think I'm gonna take a nap" Eddy stated as he stood, refusing to make eye contact with Brett. Unbeknownst to him, the shorter man followed him to the bedroom. Eddy was about to close the door when Brett's hand prevented him from doing so.

"Eddy" Brett said as he entered the room. "Are you avoiding me?" He asked.

"Wha-no. I just need to rest, is all" he replied, still avoiding Brett's gaze. "You should, like, play something or practice"

Brett gave a hearty chuckle. Eddy shook his head in annoyance and started to walk towards his bed when Brett tugged his arm and forced him to face the older violinist.

"Is there something wrong, Eddy?" Brett asked. His tone was inquisitive, but it lacked concern. It sounded more like a threat, if Eddy was going to be honest.

"N-no" Eddy replied as he took a step back. "My head just feels light" he explained.

Brett took a step forward, Eddy, a step back.

"Why can't you look me in the eyes then?" Brett demanded an answer. Eddy brought his eyes up to look at Brett, and he saw the glint of mischief in the other's brown orbs.

"I have eyesight problems now, remember?" Eddy said as he took another step back.

"Mhmmm" Brett hummed, taking a bigger step towards his friend. "Since when did you give such pathetic excuses, Chen?" He smirked.

"Wha-what is wrong with you?" Eddy tried to remain calm, but the emotional tango he was engaged in was drawing all of his energy. Moreover, he had nowhere to run anymore. His back was against the wall, and he was imprisoned between Brett's arms.

"What's wrong with me?" Brett chuckled once again "What's wrong with you? You've been a nervous wreck ever since I got here. Tell me, does my presence intimidate you?"

"No" Eddy gulped. "I'm just–what are we doing, Brett?" He asked earnestly.

"What do you mean?" Brett brought his face closer to Eddy's. "Is this still about the rumours?" He whispered.

"Yes, I know it bothers you too even though you say it doesn't" Eddy stated, trying his hardest not to give into temptations of the flesh. "I know you, Yang. You abhor rumours"

"That's true" Brett said. "But I don't really mind this one"

"Sure you don't" Eddy rolled his eyes. "Didn't you try dissociating from reality when we read some fanfiction?"

"That's different, Eddy" Brett sighed.

"How is that different?" Eddy asked.

"Because I didn't know that time"

"What? You didn't know what?" Eddy quizzed. He waited for a response but Brett stayed mum. "Brett, you didn't know what?"

"Fuck, Eddy. Are you really that fucking oblivious!?" Brett snapped. His hands formed into fists, and his brows met in the middle. "Fuck" he cursed once more.

Eddy didn't know why but he was suddenly angry. "Wow, Yang. You kiss your mother with that mouth!?" He hissed.

To his surprise, Brett's demeanour changed. It wasn't threatening anymore. He wasn't mad nor irritated. His body became more relaxed, but it still pinned Eddy against cold concrete.

Brett grinned as he looked Eddy in the eyes. "Mmm, Eddy. For someone who got into medical school, you are quite a dumdum."

"Excuse me I am—"

Eddy's usually busy mind was suddenly clear of thoughts. His body was paralysed, feeling light and heavy at the same time. He felt no other sensation except for the chapped lips that caressed his pink, soft buds.

Brett's tongue traced Eddy's lower lip, taunting the latter's mouth to open. The younger had no choice but to obey, for who was he to deprive an owner of what was his?

Eddy was Brett's, and that was a fact. It was written on every inch of Eddy's skin, the Braille of goosebumps that formed Brett's name as he traced them with his fingers. It was evident in the rhythm of Eddy's heart, and the ode it sang as Brett pulled their bodies closer.

Eddy loved Brett and not just in a brotherly way.

He was in love with Brett, damn it. And it was obvious, so fucking obvious, like a neon signpost in the middle of Soho.

But the best part was Brett was in love with him too.

"Wait" Eddy placed his hand on Brett's chest, gently pushing him away. "When did you know?" He asked.

Brett smiled, placed his palm on Eddy's cheek and said "I knew it from the moment you accidentally called me honey while we were cooking pancakes in our kitchen."


	3. Serendipity

  
  
  
Brett was rushing from one store to another with a handful of boxes wrapped in decorative paper in tow. It was the eve of Christmas. Most people were already home, cozied-up next to the fireplace with a cup of steaming eggnog. It was, after all, snowing heavily outside. The streets were covered in ankle-deep snow that glistened under amber lights from street posts. Staying indoors wasn't just ideal, it was a necessity.   
  


However there were the unlucky few who, like Brett, had to scour the floors of Harrods to do some last minute shopping. They circled rows of shelves in a concerted manner, queued on payment counters and the gift wrap section to have their presents covered in holiday patterns printed on glossy sheets. The superstore wasn't as crowded as Brett expected, but it was very much frantic still.  
  
  


Rushing wasn't a behaviour that Brett condoned nor took delight in. He was the type of man who had a penchant for organising, for plotting schedules and keeping journals. It made things easier for him to manage especially during concert tours. A soloist's life, after all, wasn't as glamorous and effortless as everyone assumed. His career demanded plenty of sacrifices, especially on matters that related to his personal life. A good example would be him missing yet another holiday season with his parents. The last leg of his tour had just finished two days ago because of schedule adjustments made to accommodate the snow-days that postponed his original concert dates.   
  
  


The weather had been ridiculously horrid, causing delay in businesses everywhere. Brett was one of many who was inconvenienced by the continuous fall of snow. Aside from rescheduling a good couple days of his shows, he also had to deal with shipment delays of his merchandise. Brett's schedule had been packed ever since then hence the dashing he was doing tonight.   
  
  


It was 8 in the evening which meant Brett had approximately an hour left to finish his errands and drive home for the Christmas party he and Alice were throwing for a couple of friends. They figured that since they couldn't fly to Brisbane and spend the holidays with the Yangs, they'd just invite people from Brett's team and from the London Symphony Orchestra to their quaint flat in Portobello Road. Brett also took it as an opportunity to express his gratitude for everyone's patience and understanding.   
  
  


Brett was waiting in front of the lift when his cellphone rang. He dropped the bags of presents on the floor to retrieve his phone from his pocket. He looked at the screen and saw it was Alice.  
  
  
  


"Hey, love" Brett answered just when the doors of the lift opened. He squeezed his phone between his shoulder and neck as he lifted his bags and stepped into the lift.  
  


"Hello, love. Just checking up on you. I hope you're almost done. Damon and Grace are already here," Alice stated, a hint of panic evident in her tone. "This is why I told you to go there sooner" she added.  
  
  


Brett gave an exasperated sigh as he pressed the button for the 5th floor. "Can we not argue about this again? I already told you I had to meet with the distributors to get an update on shipping delays," he closed his eyes and massaged his temples to maintain control over his emotions. The last thing he wanted was to start another verbal sparring session on the same topic with Alice via call.  
  


"You could've done that yesterday, you know? But fine, I won't nag you anymore. Just please hurry," Alice dropped the call without saying goodbye.   
  
  


Brett couldn't help himself from cursing. Alice has increasingly been passive-aggressive lately, and Brett had no idea why. During the first few times this happened, Brett just shrugged it off mostly because his concert was still on-going and God forbid he performed while distracted. There was one confrontation which happened on one of his days off, and that didn't turn out well. That incident didn't resolve anything, but it did lead to some unspoken truce or at least a pact to keep the peace just up until the holidays were over. So even though Brett wasn't really keen on the idea of people invading his private sanctuary, he figured it was a good opportunity for him and Alice to take some of the tension off their backs. Well, that was if he could come home in time.  
  
  


Anxiety slowly ate away at Brett when he saw the time on his phone. The damned lift was moving too slow. It didn't help that the lift's speakers were currently blasting a bad _Alvin and the Chipmunk's_ rendition of _All I Want For Christmas Is You._

_2nd._   
  


_3rd._   
  


Brett huffed as the lift stopped on the 3rd floor. He had just pocketed his phone when the doors opened and revealed a person he thought he'd never again see in his life.  
  


Eddy.  
  
  


Edward fucking Chen.

***

There were only a handful of things that dissolved Brett's courage: first, spiders; second, spiders laying eggs inside his violin; and third, Eddy Chen.   
  
  


It wasn't always like this. Eddy and Brett used to be the best of mates, almost like siblings. There wasn't a milestone in Brett's life that he achieved without Eddy, that was of course, until university. Plans didn't push through, promises were broken, and accusations were carelessly thrown at each other. Brett doesn't remember when and how it started. He also doesn't know why they never really got closure. Was it because there wasn't a need for one? Was it because they just didn't care enough? Whatever the reason was, it eluded him. He had given up wondering what went wrong years ago because he made peace with the fact that maybe their memories were mere embellishments to his biography—enchanting and attractive, but highly inconsequential.  
  
  


Inconsequential.  
  


It hurt Brett to think of Eddy that way, but that was the cold, hard truth, wasn't it? That Eddy was there until he wasn't.  
  
  


Who cared about the summers they spent wondering about what sound planets made while they lay on the grass of Mrs. Yang's backyard? Who cared about the soft mornings spent under the bridge of the community park where Brett practiced his pieces while Eddy read his most recent book purchase? Who cared about the nightly drives they took because Brett was leaving for university and Eddy didn't want to be alone?  
  
  
  


Brett thought that he did. Brett thought that Eddy did. But their mutual silence and absence said otherwise. Their relationship felt like a chapter in a book that had an inevitable end. It was dreamy, yes, but dreams were nothing but delusions that held people hostage from the reality of life.  
  


And the reality was he and Eddy walked away from each other and never turned back. Not even to give one last glance.

* * *

There's a saying that when two people decide to turn their backs from each other, they'd have to travel around the world for them to ever come face to face once more.   
  


So why was Edward Chen standing right in front of Brett Yang? Have they traveled the world enough for them to come face-to-face with each other again?  
  
  


Brett stood there, unmoving and gobsmacked. He couldn't quite decide if the situation felt like a dream or a nightmare. He didn't have the time to further ruminate on the situation though, because the doors of the lift started to close. Brett had half a mind to extend his hand to keep the doors open but his fear got the best of him. And so the doors closed and Brett Yang let out the breath he didn't know he was holding. He closed his eyes and shook his head. He started to gaslight himself, questioning his vision as well as his sanity.   
  


Just then, the lift dinged and the doors re-opened. Eddy was still there, in the flesh, very much not an apparition nor a figment of Brett's imagination. Eddy was real and Eddy was entering the lift.   
  
  
  


Brett brought his head down. He felt Eddy settle somewhere at the back of the lift. Brett's skin tingled. His breathing was laboured. He started to perspire, and his knees felt weak. It was as if he was stuck in a burning house and the smoke was getting into his lungs.  
  


There was electricity in the air and it was stinging every part of Brett's body. He felt overly stimulated—he was burning but he was also freezing; his head was light but his chest was heavy; and everything was loud. So damn loud. Fucking _Alvin and the Chipmunks_ was getting on his nerves.  
  


Suddenly, the ground beneath Brett's feet came to a halt. Brett had to lean his hand on the lift's wall to steady himself. Darkness surrounded him when the fluorescents turned-off. Brett waited for his eyes to adapt to the blackness before he felt for the buttons that controlled the lift. It seemed like the power was cut out because no matter how many times he pushed the open button, the doors didn't budge. It was dark, pitch dark, but for some odd reason, the speakers were still blasting music; the same song. However, now it was _Mariah Carey's_ version.   
  
  


"I think we're stuck here" Eddy's voice echoed in the small steal space.   
  
  


Oh _._ Brett thought. He didn't quite know how to respond to Eddy's attempt at a conversation. He wasn't even certain if it was an acknowledgment of his presence or it was just a rhetorical question. Brett didn't want to assume anything because the last time he presumed something with Eddy, it cost him a month of sanity. So Brett kept silent. He thought that maybe if he closed his eyes and pretended Eddy wasn't there, the man would magically cease to exist.  
  
  


"Hi Brett" Eddy whispered. His voice was calm and deep, much deeper than how Brett remembered it to be.  
  
  


Brett was close to weeping in frustration. Surely this was some joke that the universe designed to torment him. Maybe he killed a baby to save a Stradivarius in his previous life to deserve such torture now. He was already having a hard time dealing with everything in his life, being stuck in a damned elevator without lights and air-conditioning felt like overkill.   
  
  


Brett was fatigued from his recently concluded concert, the constant fights with Alice, and the business meetings he had to squeeze into his schedule. He was tired from running around Harrods on the eve of Christmas. He was tired of his anxiety that made him check the time on his phone ever so often just to make sure he was still on schedule. He was tired of hearing that cursed _All I Want For Christmas Is You_ through the speakers because all he actually wanted for Christmas was some fucking peace, goddamnit. He didn't want Edward Chen walking back into his life (literally), whispering his name so casually it almost seemed cruel.  
  
  


"We're going to be stuck here for a while, I reckon" Eddy said.  
  


Brett took a deep breath before replying "Y-yeah," his voice cracked. He cleared his throat and continued "it looks like it."  
  


There were a couple of minutes of silence that passed between them. Brett busied himself with his phone, informing Alice and a couple of his friends that he will be late to the party. When he finished sending messages, he tried the emergency phone in the lift to contact maintenance. Thankfully, someone picked up. Brett was informed that the generator that provided electricity to the lifts had malfunctioned because of the hail storm that fell on the city just a couple of minutes ago. The man on the other line said that the superstore's engineers were already on the case, and that the emergency lights would turn on in a short while. Brett thanked the person before he hung-up. Then, he slid down to the floor to sit.   
  


As if on cue, dim red lights illuminated the lift. It didn't do much for his eyesight, but it was much better than staying in complete darkness. Brett saw Eddy slumped in the corner, sitting on the floor like he was. He observed Eddy and noticed the changes that time had done to his face. His ex-best friend wore his hair short now, and it looked like he had it permed. He had a little stubble on his chin, a weirdly placed one, like it wasn't intended to be there. Brett thought that maybe it was spared by the blade when Eddy shaved this morning. Eddy had a habit of waking up late so he often had to rush, which meant that he had to do personal grooming haphazardly.   
  


Brett noted the blue scrubs that peaked behind Eddy's black coat. _Oh,_ he thought. _He did become a doctor_.  
  


"It's been a while, hasn't it?" Eddy's baritone voice pulled Brett out from his rumination. The former gave the latter a small smile as he shifted from his position to stretch his legs.  
  
  


Brett nodded. "I didn't expect to see you here," he muttered.  
  
  


"I didn't expect to see you here too. It's not like you to still be outside on Christmas Eve," Eddy said. He looked at the bags of presents beside Brett before he continued "you don't even like buying presents and yet here you are."  
  
  


It was unnerving how Eddy spoke about Brett with definite familiarity. It irked Brett that Eddy thought he still knew the former after a decade of not having any sort of communication between them.   
  
  


Granted, Eddy was correct, but he no longer had the right to point out such things. He lost that right a long time ago.  
  
  


"I've changed. A lot. I think you have too," Brett stated. He was careful not to give any hint how riled-up he was on the inside.  
  
  


Eddy chuckled, much to Brett's surprise.   
  


"Is there anything funny?" Brett inquired.  
  


"This. This is funny," Eddy responded.  
  
  


"How is it funny? Am I missing something?"  
  


"Well," Eddy shifted from his position. He crossed his legs in front of him and leaned his arms on top of his thighs. "I was just thinking about you the other day, actually."  
  
  


Brett felt an uncanny sensation in the pit of his stomach.  
  
  


"I had a patient who was admitted because of constipated bowels" Eddy said.   
  
  


Brett raised an eyebrow at him. "A person who had pooping problems reminded you of me?"  
  
  
  


Eddy laughed "No, no. I'm not done. He's a violinist. Well, he was. He's quite old, you see," Eddy brought his right palm to his chin. "Like you" he quipped.  
  


Brett bit on his lower lip to prevent himself from laughing. He lowered his gaze, shook his head, and took a breath before responding "I'm only two years your senior, Eddy. So don't go around calling me ancient if you're not prepared to be called a grandpa."  
  
  


Eddy chuckled again. "I was kidding, Brett."  
  
  


"I know"  
  


Brett raised his head to look at Eddy. They smiled at each other briefly before prying their eyes away.  
  
  


"He played your piece. He played Tchaikovsky and I remembered you," Eddy said.  
  
  
  


Brett felt a sharp pain in his chest. The mention of Tchaikovsky was like a sucker punch to his gut. He has not touched that piece in years for a reason. Why did _the_ reason think it was acceptable to bring it up in conversation like he didn't know what it meant to Brett?  
  
  


"That's really not my piece. Not anymore," Brett explained.  
  
  


"I see. Such a shame," Eddy responded. "You played it so beautifully."  
  
  


* * *

  
  
  


_"You played it so beautifully!" Eddy exclaimed. "She's just not into you. Stop pouting, Brett. You look dumb" he added._   
  


_It was eight o'clock in the evening. It was Brett's senior prom night. He was dressed in a rented tuxedo with a pair of dress shoes to match, but instead of being in the gymnasium he was hiking up a hill with Eddy._   
  
  


_"No,YOU look dumb. Why do you look so formal anyway? It's not your prom," Brett pointed out. He stopped walking to catch his breath. "Eddy this is pathetic. Where are we going? My feet hurt!"_   
  
  
  


_"What part of 'it's a surprise' do you not understand? You have comprehension problems now? Maybe that's why Laura turned you down" Eddy joked as he pulled on Brett's arm. "Come on, grandpa!"_   
  


_Brett didn't have any choice but to allow Eddy to drag him. When they reached the top of the hill, his jaw dropped at what he saw._   
  
  


_"Surprise!" Eddy screamed excitedly._   
  
  


_The hill was adorned with fairy lights. There was a pick-up truck in the middle, with a blanket and pillows laid on the back. A bonfire had already been started, and a picnic basket lay beside it._   
  


_"The heck is this?" Brett asked. "And how did you bring Belle's truck here?"_   
  


_"I drove it, of course," Eddy explained, earning a look of concern from Brett. "Don't worry, I was with my dad. He took a taxi home" he added._   
  
  


_"This is nice, Eddy. But why does it feel like I'm in one of those Tumblr dates?" Brett looked at Eddy with skepticism in his eyes._   
  
  


_Eddy smacked Brett's arm. "Bro, no homo. I just thought it was cozy this way. I also kinda had a feeling you weren't going to stay in that gymnasium for too long..."_   
  


_Brett looked at Eddy pointedly. "You thought I was getting rejected?"_   
  


_Eddy shrugged his shoulders before he brought up a hand to scratch the back of his head. "Well you did, didn't you?"_   
  


_"Wow, thanks for the vote of confidence, asshole" Brett mumbled before he walked towards the picnic basket. Eddy followed._   
  
  


_"Yo, are these my mum's dishes?" Brett asked as he unpacked the contents one by one. Eddy nodded._   
  


_"I asked your mum to help me cook your favourite food. I told her you're going to have your heart broken tonight so you're probably going to crave comfort food"_   
  


_Brett didn't know if he felt offended or touched. What he did know is Eddy's gesture softened the blow of the rejection he received from his long time crush._   
  


_"Thanks, bro" Brett said as he gave Eddy a hug. "I appreciate it."_   
  


_"You're always welcome, Brett. Now let's eat. I'm hungry" Eddy flashed Brett an accomplished smile._   
  


_The two boys shared xiao long bao, ha gao, and some kung pao chicken. Eddy also brought two cartons of banana milk and a pack of Yakult which he and Brett divided between them._   
  
  


_"It's such a shame I never got to dance with her, you know?" Brett said as he downed a bottle of his favourite yogurt drink. "I don't think I'll ever see her again. I heard she's moving to Melbourne."_   
  


_"It's okay Bretty. You still have me," Eddy smiled. "What is it about her that you like anyway? She seems like a b—"_   
  
  


_"hey!"_   
  
  


_"—big hearted person" Eddy retorted. He stood from where he sat and went to the back of the truck where his bag was._   
  


_Brett's eyes followed his best friend "I don't know. She's pretty. She's also kind. She has nice eyes, you know?"_   
  


_"So is the dog of the nie nie who lives across your house" Eddy bantered. "Stand, grandpa" Eddy said as he playfully kicked Brett on the thigh._   
  


_"Help me up" Brett extended his arms. Eddy rolled his eyes but helped his mate anyway. "What are we doing now?" Brett asked._   
  


_"We're going to dance" Eddy wiggled his eyebrows at Brett before he scrolled through his phone to find the right music._   
  


_"Eddy this is dumb. Let's just watch a movie" Brett said._   
  


_"It's not dumb. It's fun! Come on, Brett. You're leaving me for uni next year" Eddy reasoned._   
  


_Brett sighed. "Fine, but I don't want to dance any of your pop shit. Last time you made me do this I couldn't get out of bed without yelling for two days, Eddy! Two freaking days!" Brett held up two fingers in his hand._   
  
  


_"Sometimes I forget you're a teenager, Brett. You're barely 18 but your body is already so fragile" Eddy quipped. "I picked a special song for tonight. Just, again, no homo."_   
  


_Eddy took Brett by surprise when he circled his hand on the shorter boy's waist._   
  


_"The fuck, Eddy!?" Brett shouted as he squirmed against Eddy._   
  


_"Bro, relax. We're just gonna dance" Eddy maintained his hold on Brett. When the older boy stopped moving, Eddy took his hand and placed it on his shoulders._   
  


_"Why am I the girl?" Brett pouted._   
  


_"Why do you ask so many questions?"_   
  


_Just then, music started playing._   
  


_"What's this? It sounds romantic, Eddy" Brett said in an irritated voice._   
  


_"It's Elvis Presley, the king of rock. You know, from Lilo and Stitch? Aiya. Just don't ask. I'm pretty sure you don't know him anyway."_   
  


_They swayed as the music went on. At first, Eddy wanted to do some fancy twirling and footwork but that didn't come to fruition because Brett had two left feet, so they settled for rocking side to side instead._   
  


_"Brett" Eddy mumbled._   
  


_"Hmm?"_   
  


_"I hope I can do this with you again"_

* * *

Brett was pulled away from his thoughts by the sound of the air-conditioning unit turning on. He looked at Eddy and noticed that he had moved closer. Brett moved the bags beside him so that he could squeeze himself to the corner opposite that of Eddy's. The larger the distance between them, the better.   
  


"How have you been?" Eddy asked.  
  


"Good" Brett responded without making eye contact with Eddy. Instead, he kept his stare on his shoes.  
  


There was silence between them again. Brett was somehow thankful now that the speakers inside the lift was continuously blasting music. He recognised that the voice belonged to _Michael Bublé_. His version of the same damned song was more bearable, at least. Brett wondered how many more versions the superstore had in their repertoire.  
  


"I talked to your mum, you know? Before I left Brisbane. She told me you were here," Eddy stated. The mention of his mum piqued Brett's attention, but not enough for him to give a response.  
  


Eddy cleared his throat before continuing. "We had quite a chat, actually. She showed me your trophies and your recordings. She seemed really proud," Eddy paused. "I'm proud of you too" he added.  
  


"Don't" Brett warned. He looked up at Eddy "don't, Eddy. You don't have the fucking right" he growled.   
  


Brett clenched his jaw. Eddy averted his eyes.  
  


"You walked away from me, Eddy. You walked away from our dream. How fucking dare you talk to me like you didn't abandon me?" Brett snarled. He was livid at the situation. He was furious at Eddy. All the pent-up anger he bottled for years was coming out. He felt heat travel through his veins, to his hands and his face.  
  


"Abandon you!?" Eddy responded in confusion. Brett noticed the annoyance in Eddy's tone. It was subtle, but it was there.  
  


Eddy stood and approached Brett's corner. Brett did the same. They met in the middle of the lift, fists clenched and heads fuming. Eddy towered over Brett, but the latter stood his ground.  
  


"You were the one who left me, Brett! Don't try to pin this on me!"  
  


"I had to go to university! The plan was you were going to follow me but you didn't! You fucking left me and went to medical school instead!" Brett poked Eddy in the chest. "I didn't get an explanation from you, Eddy. That's the least I deserved after everything we've been through."

***

_Brett had been waiting for 3 hours on the steps of the library where he and Eddy were supposed to meet. The flowers he bought had turned stale. Brett kept ringing Eddy's phone but he wasn't answering. He thought about the letter he left Eddy, wondering if he wrote the wrong address._   
  


_He sat on the steps, took off his glasses, and massaged his temples. Brett was sure he wrote the time and date right. He checked it multiple times._   
  


_Brett's phone rang. It was Eddy. He immediately answered the call._   
  


_"Eddy? Where are you? I've been calling you for hours" Brett said._   
  


_"Brett, I'm sorry" Eddy responded, his tone was sorrowful._   
  


_"Sorry for what?" Brett asked in confusion. "Did something happen?" He asked._   
  


_Eddy took a deep breath before responding "I just got my results for UCAT. I passed, Brett. I'm going to medical school."_   
  


_Brett was silent. His hand gripped the phone tighter. He felt betrayed by Eddy, and there was nothing else he wished more than to scream at the person on the other line. But Brett controlled the urge to unleash his wrath because surely, there was a good reason why Eddy changed his mind._   
  


_"Why the change of heart?" He asked._   
  


_Silence._   
  


_"What made you change your mind, Eddy?" Brett urged. He was on the brink of tears._   
  


_"I just—" Eddy started but he abruptly cut himself. Instead of providing an explanation, he just apologised again._   
  


_"What about us?" Brett whispered. He heard Eddy sigh._   
  


_"Goodbye, Brett."_   
  


_The call ended._

* * *

Brett held-back the tears that were threatening to fall. Breathing had become more arduous. He felt all the pain he experienced that day wash over him like a tsunami wave—overwhelming, heavy, and suffocating.  
  


Eddy, on the other hand, looked conflicted. His face simultaneously displayed remorse and indignation.  
  


"If there was someone who gave up on us, it was you Brett," Eddy bellowed, his tone was sharp and accusatory.  
  


Brett flashed him an irritated look "Me!?" Brett scoffed. "Did you hit your head and lost your memories!? Need I remind you that the last time we ever interacted was through a phone call? A fucking phone call, Eddy! Fuck! It's like I didn't matter enough!" Brett threw his hands in the air.  
  


"You fucking left me three days after you told me you loved me," Brett poked Eddy's chest with his forefinger. "Who the fuck does that!?"   
  


Eddy was silent. He looked at Brett with tired eyes. He didn't respond when Brett shoved him to the wall. He didn't budge when Brett trapped him between his arms.  
  


"I was a mess for a whole month, Eddy. I almost lost my scholarship," Brett uttered, his voice was more melancholic than furious. He maintained eye contact with the taller man.  
  


"I'm sorry" Eddy whispered.  
  


"Sorry?" Brett pulled away from Eddy. "Sorry doesn't quite cut it, Eddy." He walked away from the taller man and turned his back. "It took me years to heal. I just got back on my feet."  
  


Brett heard a scoff from Eddy.  
  


"Years? Brett it only took you a day to replace me" Eddy accused. "What? You're surprised I know?" He added, his tone mocking.  
  


Brett was baffled. He turned around to face Eddy.  
  


"I went to your uni the day after I told you about the UCAT. I wanted to apologise. I wanted to tell you that my dad found the letter you left and he threatened to kick me out of my house if I didn't end things with you," Eddy moved towards the corner. "I was so fucking scared, Brett. I didn't know what to do because he also told me he'll tell your parents about us if I insisted on attending conservatory."  
  


Brett held his breath and averted his gaze from Eddy. For being stuck in such a small space, it was ironic that the distance between the two men felt colossal. Eddy stayed in his corner, Brett did the same thing. They looked at each other with weary stares; shoulders slumped and knees weak.  
  


"I saw you with another" Eddy mumbled softly, so soft it was almost impossible to hear.   
  
  


* * *

The ambiance inside the lift was ominous—red lights and cold air, with _Tonight You Belong To Me_ playing in the background. The circumstances surrounding the confrontation was cinematic, almost mocking with its aesthetic perfection. It was a sharp contrast to the set-up of the hill where Eddy and Brett had their first dance; much like the conversation they had just minutes ago.  
  


There wasn't a lot of listening that happened; just arguments thrown one on top of another. They almost got violent. Almost. Throwing hands would've probably left fewer scars, if they were going to be honest, because their pronouncements and allegations felt like sharp knives that penetrated flesh and soul, leaving a messy pool of blood and tears at their feet.  
  


Eddy cut open Brett's chest when he accused the latter of being 'a self-absorbed prick,' who felt entitled to every single thing in the world.  
  


Brett gashed at Eddy's heart when he pointed the fact that he 'was a coward' who never fought for anything in his life. Brett furthered the blow when he criticised Eddy for 'not having balls and a backbone' to go after what he wanted because he was much too scared to take a leap of faith.  
  


This went on and on until they ran out of things to say. Both their faces were wet from angry tears, their cheeks and their ears were red, and their limbs shaking from a mixture of adrenaline and rage.   
  


Brett went back to his corner, and so did Eddy. They were both exhausted, so so exhausted, from the crying and the arguing, but mostly, from unleashing unprocessed grief that was pent-up for a decade. Because no matter how overpowering the resentment was, at the core of the layers of emotions was despair—for being betrayed, for feeling unloved, for being abandoned.   
  


Brett and Eddy knew that the truth was, no one wanted this. No one wanted to leave the other. No one wanted to surrender the fight and move forward with their life as if nothing happened. It was just a mix of bad decisions and delayed apologies that brought them apart.   
  


Eddy crawled towards Brett's corner and sat beside the violinist. He was close enough for their shoulders to touch, but far enough for him not to suffocate Brett with his presence.  
  


"Is it like everything we thought it would be?" Eddy said in muted tones.  
  


Brett looked at the man on his left, gave him a small smile before answering "It is. It really is," Brett sighed. He leaned his head on Eddy's shoulder, with his nose tucked in the crook of the other man's neck. "It's lonely though" he confessed.  
  


Eddy shifted slightly from his position to plant a kiss on Brett's forehead. It was a chaste kiss, sweet and warm and overdue. So overdue. But Brett welcomed it like how the earth welcomed spring after a long winter.   
  


Just then, the song on the speakers changed. It was a familiar tune.  
  


Eddy pushed himself off the floor and extended a hand to Brett. "Dance with me," he commanded. Brett complied without hesitation.  
  
  


They stood in the middle of the lift, with Eddy's arms around Brett's waist while the latter's hands rested on the former's shoulders.  
  
  
  
  


_Are you lonesome tonight?_

_Do you miss me tonight?_

_Are you sorry we drifted apart?_   
  


Eddy leaned his head on Brett's as he whispered the lyrics on the violinist's ears.  
  


_Does your memory stray to a brighter sunny day_

_When I kissed you and called you sweetheart?_   
  
  


"Eddy" Brett mumbled. "I missed you so much."  
  
  


_Do the chairs in your parlor seem empty and bare?_

_Do you gaze at your doorstep and picture me there?_   
  


Eddy held Brett closer, tighter. He kissed Brett's temple while his hand caressed the shorter man's head. "I missed you too, more than you know."  
  


_Is your heart filled with pain, shall I come back again?_

_Tell me dear, are you lonesome tonight?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! I hope you enjoyed reading this. I really tried to write fluff but I just can't. Haha! I promise I will try in the other fics I'll be posting soon.
> 
> If it's not too much to ask, please do leave comments. I love reading your reactions to the things I write.


	4. Little Fragile Toys

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There was nothing gentle about that night. There was no romance, no whispers under the sheets, no caresses. Just plain fucking. There was no more succinct way of putting it. Any other description would just either be a romanticised version or a watered-down one. That incident corrupted both of them too much for anyone to categorise it in any other way than fucking.

That incident.

Their first kiss.

Brett remembered it in spliced fragments, like pictures in a zoetrope or overlaid filmstrips. He wasn't certain if he developed some kind of selective amnesia or his mind was just really blocking the memory out, but the argument that ignited such visceral response no longer existed in Brett's amygdala.

However, he vividly remembered how that night felt in his skin; the way the light from the kitchen illuminated Eddy's towering figure; the hushed sound of the television they never got to turn-off.

He recalled the sound of his hand connecting with Eddy's cheeks and the burgundy mark it left on the violinist's skin. It stung Brett's palm like a hot kettle, and he was certain the pain was ten-fold more intense for the man at the receiving end.

The violence was sudden and unexpected, and it continued all night through. Brett remembered his body being slammed to the wall, strong arms pinning him in place so roughly he struggled to breathe. The way he used his weight to push Eddy away, the way the other resisted; the way their lips crushed against each other—like the collision between two colossal bodies—rough, loud, frightening.

It was bloody and raw. Everything burned red. Teeth punctured lips. Tongues forcefully pried mouths open, desperately swallowing moans like secrets being shoved back into darkness. Clothes were ripped, discarded recklessly, and then forgotten.

There was nothing gentle about that night. There was no romance, no whispers under the sheets, no caresses. Just plain _fucking_. There was no more succinct way of putting it. Any other description would just either be a romanticised version or a watered-down one. That incident corrupted both of them too much for anyone to categorise it in any other way than _fucking_.

How they both found release that night was a mystery. There were more bruises than kisses given. The claw marks on Eddy's back was testament to the anger that burned inside Brett. The swollen marks on the older man's neck were like curses that the younger never got to utter so he left it on Brett's skin instead. Their dangerous dance continued until daybreak.

They didn't speak for two weeks after that.

The most interaction they had occurred during filming videos and calls with their suppliers. Eddy didn't bring it up so Brett thought it was best he kept mum about it too. That's when he decided to pick-up Tchaikovsky again.

* * *

_First movement._

The revelation came to him the morning he was trying to scrub himself clean from the remnants of the violent shagging that happened the night before. When he woke, he was alone, naked, cold, and sore to his bones. If not for the bruises he had on his thighs and hips, and the clutter all over the apartment, he would've settled fine with the thought that the events of last night were merely products of a delirium.

Brett was in the shower when he felt his heart drop to his stomach. He was in love with Eddy, so very much in love. The realisation came to him unprompted and unwelcome especially in the context of last night's events.

The kiss didn't happen in the most ideal scenario, but it wasn't something that Brett regretted. That incident, their first kiss, the possibility of it happening was a recurring thought that came to him on nights his insomnia kept him up. He usually brushed it off, blaming fatigue and restlessness for such unholy thoughts.

But that incident, that kiss, actually happened in real life; the night before; in his apartment, with him against a wall. And Eddy was the one who initiated it. It was uncomfortable and messy, but it was also glorious. It felt divine. That kiss brought Brett an epiphany—he was in love with Eddy, hopelessly so.

He regretted nothing from last night except for the fact that it probably didn't mean anything to Eddy. After all, he did run away at the first sign of morning. Eddy left no notes, no phone call, not even a forgotten piece of clothing. It was as if he cleaned his prints from a crime scene, careful not to leave any piece of evidence behind.

The revelation was like the _first movement:_ tranquil and heavenly on the surface, but grim at its core. After the introduction of romantic possibilities has lured one into thinking that everything was going to be magical and smooth-sailing, the cadenza comes with the truth that there was nothing but misery in a story built on uncertainty.

* * *

  
The next time it happened, it was tender and wet.

Things have gone back to normal after a month. It took weeks of Brett walking around eggshells, and Eddy giving subtle gestures that showed things were fine between them. When Eddy brought bubble tea to Brett's apartment, that's when the latter realised all was well.

It didn't stay that way for too long though because when the rains came, so did Brett's tears.

The next time it happened, it was tender and wet. Brett and Eddy were sat in the living room, sharing a blanket that was too small to fit both of them comfortably.

The storm had caused a power interruption and flooding, trapping people in their homes. Eddy wasn't supposed to be in Brett's apartment the morning the typhoon hit. They didn't have anything to film nor did they agree to hang-out that day. Eddy just appeared in Brett's door step with a bottle of wine on one hand and a tub of ice cream on the other.

The next thirty seconds after the lights went out was a little blurry in Brett's mind. Everything that came after that, however, was forever etched in his memory because it was the beginning of his slow, painful demise.

Eddy was the one who initiated the kiss. It was slow and tender, a far cry from the first time he did it with Brett. It was unassuming; Eddy taking breaths in between kisses to give Brett time to push him away if he wanted to. It was calm and patient, with Eddy tracing the contours of Brett's face with his nose while his hand rubbed reassuring circles on the other's arm.

* * *

  
_Second movement._

The morning after, Brett woke naked and warm, his limbs tangled with that of Eddy's. His neck sported black and blue marks in the shape of the younger violinist's lips. He was knackered to his bones, but he didn't mind. He felt peaceful in Eddy's arms like this. He felt like between strong shoulder blades and under chin stubbles was where he belonged.

But the sense of serenity that Brett felt didn't last very long. Their little escapade happened again after a week, and the week after that. Its frequency gradually increased until they were doing it almost everyday. At first Brett thought it was harmless, they were just relieving themselves of some sexual tension. When the doubt started to creep-in, he convinced himself that he and Eddy would talk about it at some point. That was where Brett had it all wrong. Months passed without any confrontation happening. Things between them got more and more confusing.

Eddy was very good at blurring the lines; he kept Brett close enough so that he could initiate intimacy whenever he needed it, but far enough for the latter to be wary of the invisible wall that separated them. Brett knew he was at the losing end of the situation because Eddy held all the power. Eddy was always the one who initiated, nay, Eddy was the _only_ one allowed to initiate anything. It was regretful, really, because that command wasn't something that they had agreed upon nor was it something that Eddy forcefully took. No, it was Brett's fault.

Everything was Brett's fault.

He voluntarily gave himself to Eddy—heart, mind, and soul—when the latter only asked for his flesh. Brett offered himself like a sacrifice, using the knife he fashioned from his bones to make himself bleed all over the altar he built for Eddy.

Pining was one thing, but being a sick masochist who willingly and knowingly stayed in a situation that was doomed to crash and burn was something else.

The idiocy of it all was perfectly depicted in the _second movement:_ morbid, sorrowful—a perfect chaos. But misery had its own music, and it was alluring, hypnotic, and beautiful in its own way. And when things are beautiful, people learn to get used to the pain.

* * *

  
Their last kiss was bitter and morose.

It happened like how it all began—frantic, rough, and raw. This time, Brett remembered the argument that started it all, the messy in-between, and the soul-crushing end.

Eddy came to Brett's apartment with the intention of bedding him. The text he received from Brett just an hour before was short and concise. _We need to talk_ , it said. And Eddy knew what was coming next. And so he latched onto the older man's lower lip as soon as the door closed on his back. The kiss was heated and forceful with too much teeth and tongue. His lips never left Brett's mouth, frightened of being forced to answer the question they'd been dancing around for almost half a year.

Their feet shuffled towards the bed, leaving a trail of discarded clothing in the process. Eddy left his mark on every inch of the other boy's porcelain skin, like Brett was his possession. He toyed with the other's hair, nibbled on the pink nubs on the other's chest until his shaft became firm and erect.

All courage that Brett built-up in preparation for his confrontation with Eddy dissolved as the other touched the most sensitive part of his body with firm, calculated strokes. In the blink of an eye, he was flipped—face towards hell, ass facing the heavens. The room was filled with a cacophony of grunts and moans, of flesh striking against flesh. And then they reached the pinnacle. Silence followed.

Anger engulfed Brett as he came down from his high. Eddy reeked of desperation; he wanted to prolong whatever _this_ was. Brett was sick to his stomach. He felt betrayed, manipulated.

 _Either you tell me what you want from me or let me go_ , Brett stated resentfully without looking at Eddy. The other man tried to touch him, but Brett flinched and turned his back away from Eddy.

 _I'm sorry._ He heard Eddy whisper before he felt the mattress rise from where the reason of his suffering laid.

* * *

  
_Third movement._

There was no other piece that Brett could play as perfectly as he could Tchaikovsky Violin Concerto. When everyone asked him why, he'd always answer that he had live through every note, every phrase, every movement of the piece.

The end was mortifying, he almost didn't survive it. Brett felt like he lost a part of himself when Eddy left. For months he was drowning in his own tears, on regret and the overwhelming urge to call Eddy and beg for him to come back.

But suffering always resolved at some point, grief gradually decreased in size until there's no more left. And that resolution was perfected in the _third movement_ when it magnificently illustrated how the least thing anyone deserves in this world was certainty—the one thing that Edward proved he could never give.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone! This is another fic I wrote for TwoSet Week. The prompt I used was Perfect. 
> 
> So far, this is my favorite one-shot. It's angsty (as always) and a little more poetic, but I experimented a bit on the soft smut part. Please do live a kudos and/or a comment if you liked the story :) Reading your insights/opinions about the things I write are really helpful and inspiring. Thank you!


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